The earth shook, and the ground collapsed like air as fractures ran across the ballroom, from the depths of the ground a pitch-black tentacle erupted like a pillar of darkness, it didn't just break the floor, it pulverised the ground near it, the limb wasn't small by any means, it was towering over everything.
The end of the tentacle slammed through the ceiling of the ballroom, crumbling the marble roof into raining debris upon the crowd.
This time nobody held back, panicked screams tore through the air as the nobles of the empire scrambled over one another, some slipped on the puddle of crimson blood, painting themselves with gruesome liquids.
Only those who truly possessed strength fared better than others, the patriarchs and matriarchs of the noble families, still very few stood up compared to the number of agitated ones.
The emperor, Draxel and Alaric, the three strongest currently stood there without moving, not because they couldn't but for some other reason.
